Happy Birthday, Miss Goldstein
by Katie Havok
Summary: Tina squares her shoulders before approaching, holding out a generous slice of lemon chiffon cake as a peace offering. "We missed you at the party," she says gently while depositing herself at his side. / Newt, Tina, and a forgotten birthday.


Warnings: none...well, except for some fluff and some angst. But that doesn't really need to be warned for, does it? ;)

* * *

Tina finds him seated on a hidden bench in Kennington Park.

He's laid aside his greatcoat and pushed up the sleeves of his suit jacket and shirt, a tiny smile gracing his lips as he slowly, carefully slips pine seeds to a lame red squirrel. The creature chitters happily before snatching up each offering, only to straighten and dart away when she approaches, bushy tail extended in warning.

Newt looks up with a frown and a shaft of sunlight falls into his eyes, turning them into gently glowing stars. He meets her eyes before looking quickly away, a grimace pulling on his features.

Tina squares her shoulders before approaching, holding out a generous slice of lemon chiffon cake as a peace offering.

"We missed you at the party," she says gently while depositing herself at his side.

Newt looks at the piece of cake blankly before slowly reaching out for it. He's careful to avoid touching her in the process, and Tina swallows a sigh before casting her eyes over the park, eventually landing on the Tinworth fountain.

"It's lovely here," she says for want of something to say.

Newt makes a noncommittal sound before setting down the plate and fork. Tina watches from the corner of her eye as his fingers fold into intricate fractals, betraying his nerves before he clears his throat.

"Tina," he says softly. "Tina, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Tina takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, reminding herself to allow him to speak before jumping to conclusions. "You don't need to apologize for forgetting my birthday," she tells him, turning her head to look him in the eye and pushing the hair out of her face. "Queenie tells me that men forget all the time. It's fine."

Newt takes a deep breath before looking up at her, his face haggard. "I didn't forget," he says in a rush, his voice low and hoarse. "I just…" His eyes dart away as he restlessly picks at his thumbnail, and Tina is dismayed to find tears gathering along his bottom lashes. His mouth twists and he looks down, his left leg bouncing restlessly when he exhales heavily before going on. "I just didn't think it was appropriate for me to say anything, all things considered. I didn't realize that you would... _welcome_ my enthusiasm until it was too late."

She feels her eyebrows climbing over her forehead, but keeps her voice level when she says, "I don't know why you'd think it inappropriate. A simple 'happy birthday' would have sufficed."

"Well," he says with a sigh, "it's too late for that now, isn't it?"

She reaches for him, allowing her hand to hover before laying it over his knee, gently urging it to stillness. "It's not midnight yet," she points out, smiling at his cheek as he determinedly keeps his face averted. "You should eat the cake, at least. Jacob worked hard on it."

Newt scowls at nothing in particular before reaching for the pie plate with a huff. He cuts off a huge chunk and stuffs it into his mouth, his eyes widening when he begins to chew. "Ish _good!_ " he says, spraying crumbs everywhere.

Tina laughs before brushing the crumbs off his lapels and squeezing his knee. "I know," she agrees, "but it would have been so much better if you were there. We missed you." She hesitates, wondering if she has the courage to say it, before plunging on. " _I_ missed you."

He stops chewing long enough to look at her, really _look_ at her, before swallowing loudly. She watches the thoughts swimming over his face, his eyes darkening as he considers and discards each possibility before laying the plate aside and hesitantly covering her hand with his own, squeezing gently. "You know—" he begins, only to stutter to a halt when Tina reaches for him.

"You've got something on your—" she explains, using her thumb to wipe away a dab of lemon icing tucked into the corner of his lips.

Newt's eyes are impossibly wide and impossibly blue when they meet hers, his lips slightly parted in amazement. Tina freezes and meets them head-on, sudden emotion making her heart squeeze. He doesn't look away when he deliberately reaches for her hand before bringing it back to his mouth, his tongue flashing pink as he takes his time sucking the icing away before kissing the pad of her thumb.

"It's too good to go to waste," he says, his voice dipping into its lowest register.

Tina shivers when he follows up his words with a kiss to her pulse point before releasing her. She watches his walls and guards come back up, the way his shoulders crowd around his ears, before throwing caution to the wind and pressing her face into his shoulder.

"I miss you," she admits finally, the confession somehow freeing her. "I miss how easily we used to talk. What _happened_ , Newt? Why did you decide to shut me out?"

She feels as much as hears his deep sigh and closes her eyes when he shifts to tentatively put his arm around her. "I'm not sure," he whispers, "but I wish I knew so I could fix it. I don't like _feeling_ like this, Tina."

"That makes two of us, then," she snorts, and is amazed when the gentle brush of his fingers along her arms causes her eyes to water. She brushes at them discreetly before clearing her throat, only to sigh when Newt turns his head to look down at her.

"Happy birthday, Miss Goldstein," he whispers. It takes her a moment to realize that there's a small, wrapped box in his other hand. She straightens quickly, embarrassed, only to smile when he hums soothingly before thrusting the package toward her.

Tina makes quick work of the wrapping, covering her mouth when her haste reveals a handsome No-Maj-style fountain pen and a jar of the green ink she prefers, the mother-of-pearl handle flashing complacently in the sunlight.

"Oh," she breathes, touching the silver nib with reverent fingers. "Newt, it's _beautiful_."

"I saw that in a specialty shop two days after I arrived in London," he says quietly, "and knew that it was destined for you." He smiles shakily. "I've been carrying it with me ever since, but after I stopped receiving your letters…" His voice trails off, a shadow dimming the former brightness of his eyes. He looks away to swallow. "If you don't like it, feel free to pass it on to your sister. I don't mean to imply that you are obligated to write to me."

Tina doesn't allow herself to think when she reaches for her, cupping his jaw in her hand and turning his face back to hers. "I _love_ it," she says emphatically, "and I will write to you every day for a _year_ if that's what it takes to convince you."

Newt relaxes, tension bleeding out of his wiry frame until he turns his face into her hand, nuzzling her palm. "I'd like that," he admits and meets her eyes while smiling shyly.

She allows herself a moment to soak in his obvious joy while tucking the precious pen into a pocket close to her heart. His smile doesn't falter, doesn't waver even when she shifts her hold to the back of his neck, petting the short, velvety hairs she finds there. If anything, it gets stronger, and she finds herself returning it in kind until his eyes shift and he inhales sharply, his body going carefully still.

"Oh, you're back," he says in a low, soothing voice. "Hello again, friend."

Tina blinks in confusion until a familiar chitter reaches her ears. She watches as the lame red squirrel from earlier approaches Newt's booted feet, sniffing around before sitting on its haunches to look at him imploringly, a swollen forepaw dangling uselessly at its side. "Yes, all right," he murmurs and looks at her expectantly until the sprink drops. Tina grins sheepishly before retracting her arms, allowing him to move.

Newt's eyes are warm when he flashes her a delighted smile before reaching into his jacket. "I'm going to hold you to your promise, you know," he says quietly while fishing in his endless pockets for a handful of seeds. "Every day for a year — I'll be counting."

"I look forward to it," she says, recognizing the promise for what it is, and leans back on the bench to watch Newt attend to the creature, a new lightness in her heart.

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Thanks as always to Kemara for beta-reading and constant encouragement. Come find me on Tumblr at katiehavok if that's your thing.


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